Kiss Me Goodbye
by Gradual.Descent
Summary: This is the area for any drabbles or fics that never quite made it to completion. I can assure you that a lot of what you find in here will be dross, but you might end up enjoying parts of it..


AN: Welcome to my story for drabbles or stories/first chapters that never quite made it to being completed. This first one was actually in one response to the **Scenario Challenge** by LostInLies! I'm really sorry I couldn't finish it but I got insane writer's block and trying to write myself out of it just made it worse.. even though I had a rough outline of where I wanted it to go.

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><p><strong>Comforting Sounds<strong>

"Harry! Could you come here for a moment?" A shout emerged from the room next door to the one where the raven haired teen was in the midst of putting on his newly purchased dress robes. Hurriedly slipping on the bottle green garments, he rushed into the thoroughly crowded groom's quarters.

Literally all of the male members of the Weasley clan were present within what was surely a magically expanded room, and were in various states of undress. One of the twins was walking around in dress robes at least three sizes too large for him whilst Ron seemed to be unable to find his own. Charlie was in the midst of a battle with his shoelaces, fiddling with the unrelenting fabric in a desperate attempt to fit a broad foot into the highly polished leather footwear. Even Percy had lost his cool, his horn rimmed glasses askew as he fought a losing battle in attempting to fit his arms into a set of robes that were clearly too small for him.

Bill seemed to be the only person present with any modicum of composure. He stood in front of a full sized mirror, seemingly unaware of the chaos unfolding around him. He almost reminded Harry of the spaced out figure of Luna Lovegood as he serenely fitted his cufflinks, a blissful smile playing out across his face as his thoughts were no doubt occupied with the angelic figure he was soon to be wed with.

Harry looked around the room, mystified as to whose voice it was who had called him into such bedlam. He had just turned on his heel, preparing to leave, when the strained voice of Arthur Weasley called out again.

"No, Harry! Wait!" The balding man stumbled forward, dropping the shoe he had been attempting to unlace for his son as he did so. Charlie let out a pained yelp as the hardened leather made contact with his bare foot, but Arthur paid him no heed.

"As you can see, we're all struggling a little here," he said, in what could possibly prove to be the understatement of the century. "Well, except for Bill that is," he added this almost as an afterthought, "Anyway, could you possibly see if Fleur can spare us Molly for a little while? Us Weasley men need a woman to show us how it's done 'm afraid!"

Harry nodded slowly, not used to seeing the Weasleys in such a state of disarray, and hastily fled. He let out a small sigh of relief as he escaped the pandemonium, and began his trek upstairs to Ginny's bedroom, situated on the first floor. It was there where Fleur Delacour had based herself in preparation for the biggest day of her life.

Upon reaching the door, he knocked, and stood nervously fidgeting with the hem of his dress robes as he waited. Mrs. Weasley had been extremely irritable these last few weeks and he found that he didn't really fancy giving her any excuse to give him a roasting like he'd seen Ron on the receiving end of on several occasions.

"Who is it?" the shrill voice of Mrs. Weasley called out.

"It's Harry, Mrs. Weasley! Mr. Weasley and the rest of the boys need your help downstairs."

A loud sigh could be heard from the other side of the door as Mrs. Weasley pictured the situation that was emerging. Eventually, a small _click _sounded as the door opened and the plump figure of Molly Weasley appeared, dressed in an exquisite lilac dress that Harry found himself surprised the Weasley's could afford.

"Fleur, darling, I'd best see to this but I'll leave Harry with you, okay?" her voice was tender as she addressed the French witch, but her eyes flashed a warning to Harry as she did so. Harry knew better than to argue with the look he had just been given and cautiously stepped into the room as Mrs. Weasley hurried downstairs to avert a crisis in the making.

He observed the room cautiously. From what he could see, it was just as bad as the groom's quarters downstairs. The wedding dress was laid carefully upon an unmade single bed with garish pink sheets bunched up at its end, with the veil placed neatly beside it. However, that was about the only semblance of order to be found.

Lipstick and other various makeup tools - to which Harry could only guess at the purpose of – were strewn carelessly across the floor and a pair of white shoes with an intricate floral design upon them, which he supposed were supposed to be worn with the wedding dress, lay at opposite ends of the room. To surmise, Harry mused, it wouldn't have been unreasonable to assume that a bomb had recently landed within the confines of the Burrow.

And in the midst of the wreckage a blonde figure sat in a high backed leather chair, faced away from Harry, gazing into a mirror which was blocked from his view. Unsure of what to do, Harry took a timid step forward and spoke.

"Hey Fleur, is, umm, is everything okay?" his words were spoken tentatively. He had heard legends of the mindset women got into on the day of their wedding, and he felt he was quite justified in valuing his life. However, nothing could have prepared him for what happened next.

The leather chair whirled around, and he found himself face to face with Fleur Delacour, clad in nought but her white cotton underwear. Harry felt a sudden heat rise within his cheeks as he found himself unsure of where to place his eyes. Eventually, his mind seemed to come out of its hormone induced stupor, and settled those emerald green orbs above her neckline. He could almost picture his eyes bugging out somewhat comically at what he observes as it was clear from the French witch's reaction that his face gave away the surprise all too readily.

"I knew eet! I look 'ideous, _non_?"

If Harry were to be perfectly honest she looked borderline hysterical. He found himself praying to any gods there might be that she didn't start crying, as he nervously attempted to elude the daunting prospect of another woman in tears before him.

"Not at all, Fleur, really! It's just, umm, your makeup wasn't really what I was expecting… It's just interesting is all!"

Even as the words left his mouth Harry found himself cringing at how feeble his excuse sounded. _Nice one Potter, _that sarcastic little prick in his head taunted him; _I don't have a clue why the Sorting Hat wanted to put you into Slytherin, you couldn't do subtle if it'd earn you a fucking lap dance, _it drawled. Harry was unsure as to what had caused his inner voice to be channelling Draco Malfoy, but it just gave him more reason strangle the little ferret next time he laid hands upon him.

Fleur snorted as she let out a bitter laugh, "Eet ees sweet of you to try and make me feel better 'Arry." She shot a wobbly smile at him, which still managed to be dazzling despite the state of undress she found herself in and with the travesty which barely passed as makeup adorning her features, "But zat ees unnecessary. I know zat _Mrs. Weasley _'as not been ze greatest of help to me." She spat the name of the kindly Weasley matriarch with such venom that Harry visibly flinched. Her eyes darkened as she observed herself once more in the mirror.

Harry was glad he didn't have to attempt to justify the job Mrs. Weasley had done because, quite frankly, he couldn't. As he studied the figure of Fleur Delacour, he found himself amazed that Mrs. Weasley could mess up so spectacularly in preparing what must have been one of the finest female specimens Harry had the pleasure of looking upon for her wedding day.

Her hair was tied up into a bun which, while elaborate, didn't compliment her facial structure at all. And her makeup? Well… Harry couldn't even begin to describe the makeup. It was heavily plastered on and, whilst harsh, the only way Harry could think to sum it up was that it was done in such a fashion that it could easily be described as trashy and almost bordering upon slutty. _You'd still bang her something awful though Potter! _Oh great, his inner Malfoy was back with some more lewd comments. _You can't even deny it. _

"Hey, it's okay Fleur," Harry exclaimed, pointedly ignoring those thoughts lest all of his efforts to avoid tears – and a hand shaped mark on his cheek – be in vain. Visions of his last attempt to console a crying female gnawed at the back of his mind, spurring him on, "We've still got a few hours 'til the wedding. We'll get this sorted this out!" He aimed what he hoped was his most confident and awe-inspiring smile in her direction.

However it seemed that his decision to rebuke Gilderoy Lockhart's advice all those years ago may have been a little hasty, as – far from being inspired – liquid began to form within the crystalline blue eyes of the French witch, her upper lip wobbled, and a sob escaped from those perfectly shaped lips. _Damn it all! I knew that blonde bastard had to be good for something._

To be honest, Harry wasn't even sure how he landed himself in these sorts of death defying situations. One minute he was in Ron's room, minding his own business and getting ready for the wedding, next he found himself alone with a distressed bride, desperately trying to console her as she began to do the one thing Harry had dreaded the most. She wept.

Harry stood awkwardly for a few moments as his mind was abuzz with thoughts. _Fuck, she's crying! What do I do? I'm supposed to say something here, aren't I? What do I do? _But eventually one thought drowned them out, _Oh bravo! _He could almost picture the sneer to accompany those words. _Who'd have thought that the Boy-Who-Bloody-Lived wasn't good for anything but making women cry? Way to make her feel special on 'the most important day of her life'._

In a desperate attempt to soothe distraught witch, Harry did the only thing he could think of, he looped his arms around her bare back and drew her into, what he hoped was, a strong and comforting hug.

After a few moments, she responded in kind; her arms wrapping around his bulkier frame and her hands coming to rest delicately upon his shoulders. At some point during these events, Fleur had risen from her chair, standing only a little smaller then Harry.

They stood like that for several moments, Harry just holding Fleur, rubbing her back soothingly as he allowed all of the pent up stress and emotion accumulated over those last few weeks to escape. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying those two mounds of flesh pressed against his chest, also. Eventually, he felt her body begin to still as the tears subsided.

"Better?" His voice was barely a whisper, but her proximity allowed her to make out his words. He felt, rather than saw, her nod. "Good. Now you just need to calm down, we've got plenty of time to get this fixed! I'm sure between the two of us will be able to cook up something, I mean, you're Fleur Delacour! The drop-dead gorgeous Beauxbatons champion! How are you going to be anything but beautiful on your wedding day?"

_Smooth, Potter _his inner Draco grudgingly admitted. _If you don't take this last opportunity to shag her, though, I'll be sorely disappointed._

"And of course." She laughed slightly, before continuing. "'Ow could I possibly fail in zis task with ze 'elp of 'Arry Potter – 'Ogwarts and Triwizard champion?"

Making to step out of the hug, Harry laughed at the French witch's attempt to lighten the mood within the room. However, he let out a yelp of surprise as, before letting him go, one of Fleur's hands subtly slipped from his shoulder, and a few seconds later a sharp pain emerged from his rear end. He leapt backwards and out of the embrace.

"You pinched me!" His accusatory tone only served to fuel the melodic laughter coming from the French witch.

She was doubled over now, a finger had pointed at him weakly, and he thought she had tried to say something before simply laughing even harder. Harry fought to keep his eyes on the ceiling. His embarrassment had begun to fade and he'd realised that his current position had done nothing to harm the amazing view of her cleavage he'd had. Hesitantly, and against every single instinct he possessed, he spoke, rather loudly too.

"Hey Fleur, don't you think you should put your dress on?" Damn, he hated being noble.

Fleur's giggling ceased. She stood up straight and fixed her gaze upon him, looking confused as to why Harry had interrupted her laughing fit with a topic so unrelated to what they had been discussing. That is, until she followed his gaze, which had once again come to rest below upon her chest. A coy grin illuminated her face as she took seductive steps toward him, her hips swaying exaggeratedly with each movement.

"Why, 'Arry," her voice was husky, sending shivers down his spine, "I'm sure, with a reputation like yours, zat zis ees nothing you 'ave not seen before."

Her arms wrapped around his neck as she finally came to a halt before him. She raised her eyes to meet Harry's shocking green orbs, preparing to flutter her eyelashes prettily to complete the image she'd created. However, upon witnessing the mortified expression upon his face, her own façade crumbled.

"I'm sorry!" She smiled unapologetically, gently retracting her arms and taking a few careful steps backward. "Ze temptation was too much to resist. Eet's just, your face! Eet was too perfect an opportuneety!"

Harry was stunned into silence for a few moments; unsure of how to react to the scenario he had found himself in, before coming to the conclusion that a laughing veela was undoubtedly preferable to a crying one. His face cracked into a smile as he decided to go along with the act.

"Well if things don't work out with Bill, you know who to come to right?" A light hearted wink was thrown in at the end of the statement for good measure, to ensure she realised he was jesting.

"_Non, non, non 'Arry!_ Gabrielle, she ees rather smitten with you! I don't theenk I would last ze week if I stole her man!"

**AN: Annnnddd... that's all I had :(I was basically planning to have a few more dirty thoughts from Harry as he helped her fix herself up and stuff. Then disaster was going to strike again as Fleur's father was ill and couldn't walk her down the aisle, leading to Harry having to fill in. Then there was going to be a funny little scene to end it all at the reception, with the Weasley's, Gabrielle and co. Unfortunately even though I'd planned it out, writing it was a different matter. I hope you enjoy what i had at least!  
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